


The Sweater Song

by missdibley



Series: The Red Nose Diaries [15]
Category: Tom Hiddleston - Fandom
Genre: F/M, Long Distance Relationship, Ralph Lauren Purple Label, Talking On The Phone, Tiff, ralph lauren
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-18
Updated: 2015-09-18
Packaged: 2018-04-21 08:18:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,425
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4821929
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/missdibley/pseuds/missdibley
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It was so beautiful. The sweater, the sweater on Tom, the sweater on Tom while he would, as I like to say, “lie on top of me in a sensual fashion.” I could almost feel its softness against my bare skin. I pictured my hands skimming over the cashmere, so much softness providing cover for the hard muscles of his body.</p><p>UNF.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Sweater Song

**Author's Note:**

> for reference: <http://magnus-hiddleston.tumblr.com/post/129345446086/tomhiddleston-gifs-tom-hiddleston-cute>

The first time I saw the picture of Tom wearing the sweater, the pierogi I had just shoved in my mouth fell out and landed, with a soft _plop_ , in my lap before bouncing to the floor under the dining room table. That’s how much my jaw dropped.

He looked the kind of good that made me believe in the existence of God. He looked the kind of good that made me wonder, once again, how somebody like me, a goofball who could stand to lose 50 pounds and maybe get some breast implants, managed to bag this dude.

I was becoming quite obsessive about the sweater, and how good Tom looked in it. It must be his. It should be his. I’m sure it’s been offered to him to keep but his modesty probably would have prevented him from accepting something that appeared to be so luxurious.

But how luxurious, I wondered. Too fancy for me to buy it for him, surprise him with it? I imagined him opening a carefully wrapped box and finding the sweater inside. _Oh Button, you shouldn’t have_ , he would coo before making out with me in front of a roaring fire. So in the name of research and being the best girlfriend ever, I did what I always do -- I e-mailed Luke.

> Hi Luke!
> 
> I noticed that Tom wore this beautiful blue cable knit sweater when he was doing some promotional stuff for _High-Rise_ in Toronto. Any chance you know the label, and if he has to return it? If so, I’d love to buy it for him (please don’t spoil the surprise!).
> 
> Hope you are well, and have fun in Spain!
> 
> Besitos,  
>  Carmen
> 
> _Hello Carmen:_
> 
> _Yes -- the jumper is Ralph Lauren Purple Label. You can order it directly from their web site: http://www.ralphlauren.com/product/index.jsp?productId=13129099._
> 
> _Tom doesn’t actually have to return it, as the people at Ralph Lauren insisted he keep it as a gift, along with the rest of the clothes they were kind enough to provide. If you can convince him to keep them, and help him expand what I would generously refer to as his minimalist wardrobe, my (Ralph Lauren) hat is off to you._
> 
> _Heard you met Stanley Tucci recently. Remind me the next time I see you to get you tipsy so you can tell me what happened. Tom refuses to dish._
> 
> _Fondly,_  
>  _Luke_

I opened the link and there it was - style number 13129099, the cable-knit cashmere sweater:

> _The cashmere used in the cable knits from Purple Label is combed—not sheared—from goats raised in the mountains of Mongolia, where the high altitude and cold climate result in a fine, soft underfleece. Only the whitest long staple fibers are used to ensure the best dye results, as well as exceptional warmth and incredible softness. After this meticulous sourcing process, they're spun by artisans in a century-old Italian mill and washed using pure water from the Swiss Alps._

It came in a number of lovely colors, including the classic navy that Tom wore.

It cost $995.

HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA

That was more than my rent. That was almost the cost of my plane ticket to London in July. Ten 1-day passes to Disneyland. Dinner for four at Alinea. 199 two cheeseburger meals at McDonald’s.

I could understand why he wouldn’t keep it. I mean, I think I could. He doesn’t like having a lot of things unless those things are books. Which, as I eyed the books that were stuffed onto shelves or arranged into stacks around my own apartment, I totally understood.

But.

It was so beautiful. The sweater, the sweater on Tom, the sweater on Tom while he would, as I like to say, “lie on top of me in a sensual fashion.” I could almost feel its softness against my bare skin. I pictured my hands skimming over the cashmere, so much softness providing cover for the hard muscles of his body.

UNF.

I had to call him.

“Button? Everything alright?”

“Everything’s great! Why do you ask?”

“Did I miss something? I thought our call wasn’t scheduled for later…”

I shook my head. “The phone sex? That’s still on. No, I’m calling on a matter of business.”

“Business?” He drawled. “Do I need to get my solicitor on the phone?”

“Only if your solicitor advises you on decisions of a sartorial matter as well as legal ones.”

“So you’re calling about my wardrobe then? This ought to be good. I am at home. Should I dash upstairs and examine the contents of my closet? Check the laundry basket?”

“No! Just stop being a dick and listen to me.” I sighed. “It’s about the blue sweater.”

“What blue jumper?”

“The cable knit one. Dark blue. You wore it in Toronto for _High-Rise_ promotional stuff, I think.”

“How did you… Ah. Tumblr again.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Oof,” he murmured. “Have I told you that I do love it when you call me that?”

“What?” I replied innocently. “Call you sir?”

“Oh god…”

I smirked. “Well, _sir_ , I wanted to know if you still had the sweater.”

“Ah, let me see… my suitcases are here by the front door. Just a tick… yeah, packed up with the other wardrobe from Toronto.”

“Do you have to return it?”

“I do not, but I don’t really need most of it. Someone from Ralph Lauren is coming by tomorrow to collect it. Why?”

“Tiny favor, baby?”

“You want me to keep the jumper, is that right?”

“Please?”

“Car… you know I love a good gift as much as anybody but…”

“But what? Be gracious! I know you can do that. Be gracious, accept the gift, and maybe let me pet it every once in awhile.”

“I already have a blue jumper!”

“You have one blue sweater. And it’s a turtleneck, which is very nice. But, darling, you’ve been wearing that thing since 2012, and I think it needs to be retired. At least for this season.”

“But I could just, I don’t know, get it dry cleaned more frequently?”

“No! You need another one. A backup sweater should your blue turtleneck be unable to fulfill its duties!”

“Does it need to be this one?”

“Tell me something, Scrooge McDuck. When you wore the sweater, how did it feel?”

“It felt…”

“Pretty goddamn fantastic, am I right?”

“It was pretty soft.”

“Only pretty soft?”

He sighed. “It was the softest thing I’ve ever worn.”

“I thought so. And why would you want to wear anything else?”

“Because I don’t need it.”

“Are you sure about that?”

“Yes.”

“But do you want it?”

“Well, sure, but…”

“But what?”

“We can’t always get what we want.”

“Wait… are you being for real or just quoting The Rolling Stones to annoy me?”

“Both, Button.”

“Asshole.”

“Brat.” He chuckled. “Why do I get the feeling that you have ulterior motives here?”

“What?”

“You want me to have the jumper so you can have it, right? If that’s the case, I’ll just buy it for you then.”

“So you’re going to drop $995 on a sweater then?”

“WHAT?”

“If you do that, then you forfeit your right to giving me shit whenever I turn up with another pair of $75 stockings from Wolford. The very stockings you never seem to mind when I come to bed wearing them and nothing else.”

“Are you going to hold the stockings hostage until we resolve the blue Ralph Lauren jumper crisis of 2015?”

“YUP.”

There was a silence, a brief pause, and then we both exploded into laughter. I had to lie down on the couch to compose myself.

“I already named it, you know.”

“You named the jumper?”

“Yeah,” I whispered. “I thought, you already have the Blue T-shirt of Sex…”

“How’s it doing?” Tom spoke in a hush.

“It’s great. Very soft. Very sexy. Very you.”

“Good.” He sighed. “But the jumper?”

“I was thinking we could call it The Blue Sweater of Extreme Making Out. In England, it would be The Blue Jumper of Extreme Snogging.”

I smiled when I heard Tom chuckle. “That is… absolutely delightful.”

“I know. It’s like, you would wear it over the Blue T-Shirt of Sex…”

“So it’s merely a costume for foreplay, then?”

“Yes! And then the sweater comes off, the blue t-shirt is up, and we, you know…”

“Ah.”

“Still not convinced?”

“No, but…”

“Okay,” I murmured. “Picture this: me, wearing the sweater with a pair of Wolford thigh highs… and nothing else.”

“I’m keeping the jumper.”

“Thank you, baby.”


End file.
